Eden Dissolved, Innocence Lost
by Lady-ID
Summary: It's difficult to grow up alone, and it's devestating to have your humanity and identity stripped from you. Two lonely souls meet by chance... perhaps love is more than just a chemical, and goes beyond conditioned restraints. Please R&R. Thank you.
1. Send Me an Angel

**Disclaimer:** The _BioShock _franchise belongs to 2K Games. I obviously don't own it. I do own the fanfiction idea and OCs that appear within. Sticky fingers will be eaten with Nutella.

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><p><em>Eden Dissolved, Innocence Lost<em>

By Lady-ID

Chapter I: Send Me an Angel

It was well past midnight. She was supposed to have been asleep hours before. But she couldn't keep her eyes closed, and all she had done that day was listen to her mother periodically lecture her on Freud's structural model of the human psyche, so she didn't get to finish the book she had been reading. She believed she deserved a bit of respite.

Eleanor Lamb, age seven, sat upon her bed – humming to herself as she fiddled with an Acu-Vox. She had taken it from her father's study, and her mother would be furious if she found out. But she had been so busy lately between social work and tutoring her; Eleanor had concluded that she wouldn't notice if just one of the collection of tapes went missing for a while.

Eleanor at first could not fathom why this was so, as it did not make sense that her highly perceptive, earth-bound mother had become… so detached from reality. It was unusual. She had then noticed that when her father was brought up in a conversation or when she glanced at his photograph on the mantelpiece, her mother's careful, studied face would waver in expression for the slightest moment before the topic was changed or she busied herself with something else.

Doctor Aden Lamb had been gone for a little over a month now. He had left for work one morning, but not before promising his daughter that he'd bring home "contraband" for her in the form of something he called a "fairytale book." "A secret between us from your mum, Nellie. Study it closely, and it may save ye from the wee folk," he had said with an easy grin, tapping her lightly on the nose. That was the very last time she saw him.

Eleanor had thought him to be busy with work as well, like mother. Her father was a surgeon, one of the most competent in Rapture, her mother had told her. Maybe there was an accident somewhere, and a lot of people depended upon him to help operate on them so they could get on with their lives. _'Yes,'_ she had thought, _'that has to be it.'_

Five days passed to become a week… then two, then three. That assumption had then become unsettling with her. Every day, when she was certain that her mother was in a somewhat favourable mood, Eleanor would ask her the same innocent question: "Mother, when will Papa be home?"

Her mother would give her a long, blank stare, and ignore the root of the question with a blasé answer of "Soon, my dear." Finally, today… her mother had sat her down after her noon lesson and told her that father was now "amongst angels," in a much better place than where they were now.

"Your father was taken from us, Eleanor, because he made the choice to go against the tyrannical method and help his poorer patients without taking pay. He is gone because he believed strongly in supporting those who were impoverished because of class oppression, and were in need of a guiding hand. His sacrifice in the name of altruism is a true testament to our beliefs, and is why we must keep progressing onward." She had said all this in a calm, low voice, though her knuckles were clenched white to the tendons upon her knee.

Regardless of her mother's words to be strong and feel not sad for his departure, Eleanor missed her father terribly. So much in fact, that she had resorted to stealing one of his audio diaries. If not to listen to the results of Plasmid misuse and the effects of ADAM on the human respiratory system, then just to be able to hear his voice.

"You should have seen mother last week, Papa," she said to the quasi-responsive voice. "She was very cross with me because I hacked her new cameras to go out and see the other children again. Amir and I were playing on the swings, and then his friend, Molly, came along and asked if we wanted to play something called 'hide-and-go-seek' with her. It sounded like ever so much fun, so I wanted to try it." She sighed, swinging her little legs up onto the white, lacey covers.

"I went to go hide in the rose tea gardens. You know? The one you like to take mother to sometimes for breakfast? I ran into mother there while she was having a session with one of her patients, and she was angry because she had to leave the poor lady in hysterics and take me home. She scolded me too." Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she furrowed her brow, crossing her arms stiffly over her chest.

"She said, 'Eleanor Lamb, I cannot take my eyes off of you for one instant, can I? Once I leave you alone, you decide to pick apart every security device I have just to go out and play when you can be doing much more productive means with your time. You are becoming more and more stubborn like your father every day!'" Eleanor paused for thought.

"Then… she got very quiet, and left. It's because of you, Papa… she misses you. She won't admit it, but I can tell. I miss you too… you didn't mind at all if I snuck out to play with other children as long as I stayed in the Park…" Eleanor blinked, staring at the Acu-Vox. The gadget was making small, metallic clicking noises, signifying that it had reached the end of the reel.

"Papa, I want a friend – no, I want… I want a _kindred spirit_. That's much better than a normal friend, don't you agree? Someone who will stay by my side, and never leave me, and keep me company. Will… will you send me one?" Eleanor leant close to the audio diary, her lips so close that her breath created a fine mist on the metal surface.

"In that case, Papa… send me a kindred spirit… maybe an _angel_. The nicest angel that you can find…"

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><p><strong>AN:** I know it's never mentioned in _BioShock 2 _as to whom Eleanor's biological father is, so, I suppose this could be as good as any explanation out there. I also wanted to do something with Sofia for the introduction. As much as I disliked the woman, I still found her to be an interesting antagonist, and wanted to explore how she might react to something like this. I just hope I kept her in character enough.

This is planned out to be a multi-chapter story set during and the events leading up to _BioShock 2_. As observed in the rating, there are going to be things that are considered unsavory for some. I have an idea of how things will play out, but, it's sketchy as of now. So please be patient and work with me.

Anyway, the next chapter will hopefully be up soon. Feel free to offer constructive criticism, as it is much appreciated by this author.


	2. Better off Dead

**Thank you** to Sterella and RyuBlu for reviewing, it really means heaps to me. Reviews and constructive criticism is once again appreciated, so please tell me what you think.

**Disclaimer:** _BioShock_ is property of 2K Games, so I obviously don't own it. I do, however, own the fanfiction idea and the OC's that appear within. Sticky fingers will be eaten with Nutella.

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><p>Chapter II: Better off Dead<p>

Doctor Elena Nikolaevna Pavlova could honestly say that she hated both her job and fellow scientist right now.

"I need you to gather a few ADAM slugs for me, Pavlova. You should be able to find a sufficient amount outside Sector VI near Arcadia."

Working alongside Brigid Tenenbaum was not easy. Granted, the woman was fair and easy to get along with, but she was also very demanding. When she said she needed something, she needed it not in an hour or two, but _as soon as possible_, which put time constraints on certain things...

Elena had thought this a little funny, as Tenenbaum usually went out into the field and collected samples for her own purposes by herself. It was the way she worked. Then again, she had been busy lately, working with Doctor Suchong in the developmental laboratory on a project called "WYK." This left Elena in the position to play "mother" to any of Tenenbaum's little ones that happened to wander past whilst doing her own work.

Still… Elena was not about to leave the German woman out to dry. She had her work cut out for her. What, with her own research to do and personal problems, now she had "WYK." Elena had sucked up any reservations she had, gathered together a small crew from the assistance department, and made her way to the airlock port in Arcadia. The worst part? She had to put on a heavy diving suit and limit her trip to one hour to conserve the oxygen in her tank, as Ryan and Fontaine were making power plays against each other and the prices for air had skyrocketed. The right to breathe was quickly becoming a _privilege_.

Elena hated the distasteful aspects of her job… but she loved the ocean with all her heart. It was one of the reasons she had moved down here. Schools of silvery little fish swam to and fro amongst the rocks and coral reefs. Above her head, predators... such as sharks and tentacled creatures lurked in the shadows of the towers, believing that Rapture was part of their habitat. A pod of whales cried mournfully in the distance. She stared out past the kelp forest. The lights of the city appeared to be a collection of tiny, sparkling diamonds against a swath of beryl shapes. Really... it was breathtaking.

Though the cauldron of problems inside the city that she saw with her own eyes were broiling underneath the lid, from the power struggle between the two business tycoons to ADAM-crazed lunatics wandering the streets, they didn't bother her in the slightest while she was out in the ocean blue. Submersed in water amongst the aquatic life, she felt not a bit troubled like she did inside the city.

Elena halted, kneeling down near a rock pile to pick up another fleshy, burgundy-coloured slug, and placed it with its fellow in her storage tube. She wasn't sure how many Tenenbaum would need, as she didn't exactly specify this morning before rushing out her office door; she supposed she'd have to gather enough for both culture tests and the creation of new Little Sisters.

She only hoped to be done soon… the JUNO Thesis wouldn't stand a chance at becoming a full-blown project extension if she didn't finish it and present it by next Thursday. It could be a turning point in-

"Hell, woman! You done yet?" Charlie's voice asked harshly from the radio in her helmet. "You've been out there for over twenty minutes!"

"Of course not," she responded, looking around for another possible hot spot. "ADAM slugs are particularly good at camouflage. I will need probably about half an hour more. You want to come out here and help me? I am sure I will get done faster that way." She heard a sharp laugh at the other end.

"Pavlova, ya know how sissy-nanny ol ' Charlie gets when he sees things that crawl," Matthews piped in, earning a shrewd cursing from Charlie.

"Alright, knock it off," Eckhart's business-upfront tone cut in. "Let the poor doctor do her job. The last thing she needs is you two clowns having a sailor-swearing contest in her ear. Do just that and you'll be transported to maintenance to work under O'Malley faster than you can say 'hopscotch.' I heard she needs two rough-necks anyway."

Elena smiled at the two men's protests against the idea, though they probably knew like most everyone else that "Big Kate" was like a domesticated dog – all bark and no actual bite. Her eyes scanned the area, settling upon another pile of large, low-set rocks about 100 paces away. Perfect.

"Hey, Pavlova, what do those ADAM slugs look like?"

"Burgundy-coloured; span from about the length of your wrist to the tip of your middle finger. Why do you ask?"

"No reason," Matthews said. "Suddenly curious about it, I guess. Ya know, how ADAM is made an' all that jazz… Say, Eckhart," he changed his attentions to his boss, "Not to be forward or anythin', but ya ever spliced before?"

"No," Elena detected a hint of displeasure from Eckhart in being asked, "That's something you young people do these days. Though, I've seen women my age splicing and getting surgery for beauty enhancement. It's like Ponce de Leon's Fountain of Youth, and it makes people damn crazy."

"…Yea, can't deny that," Matthews grunted in agreement. "Ya know, that reminds me; I have this friend who was a burlesque dancer at the Venus Lounge. Emphasis on _was_. She was right good looking and really knew how to use them legs to her advantage, but she spliced before _going onstage_. Said some bull about 'enhancin' the performance.' Anyway, she came to visit last month… and let me tell ya... She'll need a few thousand bucks and a trip to Doctor Steinman if she ever wants to look half as pretty as she used to. I hardly even recognised her through all the facial deformities, boils, an' tears that she was blubberin' out."

"Christ almighty," Charlie swore, "You'd think with all the nasty side effects, people would just say 'no,' especially with those loonies running around now, all strung out on ADAM and searching for their next fix."

"Don't ya start talkin', Charlie, I know full well ya splice. I've seen ya do it."

"Hey, Sports Boost is essential for a man who wants to keep the lady friend in a good mood. Can't disagree with that, eh?"

Elena rolled her eyes, shaking her head as she continued through the water towards the rocks. The closer she got, the more detail she could make out… in fact, was that a… a _hand_? Five appendages were attached to it…

"So, Pavlova, have ya ever spliced before?" Matthews asked her through the dry crackling of the PA. "I mean, you've had to once or twice, right? You're one of those 'Elite' types, so you've got access to the good stuff? Man, that must be nice…"

"What in the world…?" Elena quickened her pace as much as she could, struggling against the now suddenly heavy current and thick sand. Even the seaweed seemed like it was trying to stop her by wrapping its slippery tendrils around her legs. Whatever that was at the base of the pile, it was_ not_ a rock. She just hoped her assumption was not correct…

"Ya don't need to lose your pretty little head or anythin' over it. You're not bustin' a copper's balls or chasin' the drago–"

"Matthews, there is a diver out here!"

"…Well, yea. The maintenance crew always has some leak to fix out here near the Gardens, so it's not weird to see a team of–"

"No! He is unconscious and not moving you idiot!"

"What do you mean 'unconscious'? _Is_ he on the maintenance crew? They're not supposed to be out there alone in case of-"

"I could seriously care less if he is or not! He needs to be brought inside now and given medical attention! His skin is very pale, and his oxygen tank is almost empty as well!"

"Give me the transmitter, Matthews," Eckhart said firmly into the radio. "Doctor, are you sure?"

"Yes, for god sakes, yes!" Why were they acting like she was a moron when someone's life was on the brink of going out? "I am not hallucinating, if that is what you are thinking! I do _not_ splice! I see him in front of me right now!"

"Alright, calm down, doctor. I'm sending Charlie to get a medic team. I'll be out there soon. You stay with him and see if you can wake him up." The PA gave a sharp, fizzing noise, and then the connection broke off.

Elena bit her lower lip, turning towards the fallen diver. She kneeled down, picking him up under the arms, and pulled him with all her might into a sitting position; though, that was as far as she could go. Because of the bulky diving suit and equipment he was wearing, it would take the strength of two or three people to get him back to the airlock. Trying to get him out of his suit would also be stupid and the equivalent of committing homicide. As much as she hated to admit, all she could do was sit and wait for help.

Minutes ticked by, reverberating in her head until she saw the form of Eckhart approaching. Both women used what strength they had to hoist the man up, supporting him on either side as they began dragging him back to the airlock. For a while, it was considerably easy. Then after a few minutes, Elena could feel herself already becoming exhausted. Her lungs burned. Although she breathed deeply and evenly to ease the tension mounting in her neck and arms, she still quivered at the knees. Then, just as she felt like she was going to collapse, she looked up, and she swore her heart nearly sputtered out from joy. They had made it back.

_Rapture. _

Elena remembered when she first came to the city at sixteen years of age. In her eyes, she had seen what great opportunity Rapture offered her and other people. Here, there was freedom; not like what she was promised and cheated out of in America, or what she had never seen while growing up in the USSR. It was authentic, _tangible_. Here in this city, she wouldn't have too many worries about being discriminated against for her Eastern European heritage or sex because the old laws of Eugenics were, for the most part, frowned upon and seen as primitive drivel that only the "parasites" used, and she could research and experiment to her heart's content without being held back by religious or ethical factions.

The women entered the lit airlock, and it was shut immediately with an echoing clang. Seawater began draining from the bay back into the ocean as Elena set the unknown diver down on the grate in a lying position, moving his hands to his side. Once the bay was completely devoid of water, Eckhart leaned against a pipe, removing her helmet.

"Where is Charlie?" She demanded, breathless. Sweat trickled down her flushed temples. Elena felt downright terrible for not insisting that Matthews come help her move the diver instead. Eckhart was not exactly as young as her, and that one trip had obviously put a strain on her.

"He radioed in not long ago, and he's on his way with a medic team. Now let's get ya outta-"

"I'm not the one who needs attention right now. That man lying there on the ground _unconscious_ does. Do you honestly think he is breathing? Get him out of that damn helmet now and check."

"Now, take it easy ol' woman-"

"Don't you 'ol' woman' me!" She snapped, causing Matthews to wince. Before any other exchanges could be made, the door leading into the Gardens itself opened and in rushed Charlie with three medics close in tow. One look at the state the diver was in was enough to get a reaction.

"_Yeesh_! I see why she was wiggin' out! Move aside, Pavlova, the docs are here. Let them take care of this poor guy now."

Elena carefully moved out of their way. As she watched one of the doctors, who was now performing resuscitation on the diver, she noticed that she was still holding one of the man's hands, and gently set it at his side, studying his diving suit for the first time. "…Who is this man, Eckhart?"

"…Either than the fact that he is young, and a diver… I haven't the faintest idea, and I wish I could tell you…" The elder woman sighed, running a hand through her short hair. She gave the unidentified man a hard, tired look. Was that… _fear_ reflecting in those eyes of hers? "But… now that I'm actually thinking about it… maybe it would have been better if we just left the poor boy out there for the fish. He would have been much better off." Elena's own eyes widened, disbelieving that such a kind soul had said such a thing.

"Allison! Why do you think that? … …_Oh_… I see…"

"We got a breather! He's breathing!"

A horrible, cold feeling settled into the pit of her stomach like a rock as Charlie gave a cry of triumph; the diver's body lurching as he emitted a few burbling coughs, eyes fluttering before he blacked out again… though sadly… he was breathing. Barely, but it was there. Audible.

_Rapture. Where the artist would not fear the censor. Where the great would not be constrained by the small. Where the scientist would not be bound by petty morality. And through the sweat of your brow, Rapture can become your city as well._

…If you were worthy in the eyes of its god…

Elena knew that the moment they had brought him inside Rapture, the man was as good as dead.

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><p><strong>AN:** Replaying _BioShock_ and _BioShock 2_ is giving me some more little details to put in this story. I believe it's the big picture that is important, but the little things do make many people smile as well. I'm also trying to decide whether I should narrate Johnny through third, second, or first person - like in the game. Finally, I'm trying to decide whether or not I should make Johnny a totally innocent character; meaning that he probably wasn't the archeologist he said he was. I've seen different rumours floating around, but it's difficult to make a decision. Suggestions for both would be welcomed. Just tell me which idea from each you all like better.

I'm going to try updating every Thursday, but with the semester coming to a close soon, I'll have final exams and papers to worry about. I will hopefully have the next chapter up next week, as I've got at least a dialogue going on scrap paper and a somewhat better feel on how I'm going to go about this.


	3. Mister Nemo

Sorry this chapter is late; I've been busy. Please read and review; I'd like to hear what you think so far.

**Disclaimer:** The _BioShock _franchise belongs to 2K Games. I obviously don't own it. I do, however, own the fanfiction idea and OC's that appear within. Sticky fingers will be eaten with Nutella.

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><p>Chapter III: Mister Nemo<p>

_Music… singing… where was it coming from…?_

Your eyes began to slowly crank open, but slammed shut again. Bright, white light of the cruelest kind had just stung you. That really smarted… and your whole body ached… it _hurt_. It was like… a dull, continuous pang… like someone took a sledgehammer and bashed you over the head… it wasn't the normal kind of hurt you would get from slamming your hand in a car door… and you hated it.

What the hell happened? Did you drink too much last night? No… you didn't taste alcohol in your mouth, and a hangover would be _welcome_ compared to this. Did you piss off the wrong guy and get beaten up? Fall down the stairs? Get into a car crash? You probably could have remembered if the banshee in your skull would stop rattling the bars of her cage and screaming her head off.

…Water and waves. You definitely remembered that. Cold… and snow and ice. You were out at sea… and your captain… _"Good luck, boys. You'll need it down there."_ Why? Was it dangerous down there? You could remember sinking down… deeper than you were supposed to have gone, further from your team, and far enough that you knew that your oxygen supply probably wouldn't last through the trip back to the surface. You don't know why you did that… wait… you had seen something. There was something further in the depths.

…Lights. Thousands of glimmering little lights – it was like looking down at Brooklyn. Deep at the very bottom.

Atlantis! You had found the lost city!

God, your head felt like it was going to split in two, but you propped yourself up on your elbow. You were on a bed, like the kind you'd see in a ritzy hotel, stripped clean to your underwear and covered with a blanket. You were supposed to be miles from the nearest point of human civilization… Iceland.

What were you doing here?

What's more… Why did Atlantis have beds that looked like they came from a royal suite? You would at least expect that they'd look like the lounge chairs the ancient Romans used. Something not so modern.

You looked around, feeling the beginnings of a migraine. Peachy. Maybe this was all some crazy dream. You dreamed that you had found a mythical lost empire, and that you had nearly killed yourself doing it. Perhaps the crew, your companions, all of those missing people and ships… had they all been part of the same long, weird dream? You wondered if they send people to the nut house if they go around saying stuff like that…

You tried your hand at getting up. You nearly toppled over from the head rush, but out of stubborn willpower, you managed to stand up, examining the room while leaning against the footboard. It was a pretty big room. Bed, chair, writing desk, nightstand, wardrobe… kind of feminine if you tilted your head and squinted. You stumbled over to the door, fumbling at the knob, and entered what looked like a living room. The music was much louder out here…

"Pavlova, it's already been a week," you stiffened at the sound of a voice, muffled by a door across the way that was slightly cracked open. The voice belonged to a man… and stressed would be an understatement to how he sounded. "Ya have to do somethin' about him. What, ya think ya can just let this slide by, no strings attached?"

"I know, but I cannot turn him in. I would be like his executioner." Another voice – a woman – spoke up.

"How do ya know if it's like murder or not?" You noticed that his voice had a metallic edge to it, and broke off from time to time. They must have been speaking over a transmitter of some kind. Atlantians had modern technology. Who knew? You began creeping closer to listen in better.

"…Matthews," she began. You noticed that she had a light Eastern European accent laced in her syllables. "Have you been reading the papers – looking with your own eyes at what has been, no, what _is_ going on? Death sentences, for _smuggling_. Ryan had those people killed for being involved with the black market down here. He will now resort to _murder_ to keep this city hidden from the surface. Ой, what punishment do you think this poor man will get for accidentally finding this place? He certainly is not going to get a medal."

"It couldn't have been an accident, Pavlova."

"Why could it not have been? I am sending you a reality check, Matthews. We are not exactly cloaked in an invisibility shield here at the bottom of the ocean. It never occurred to you that someone might chance upon the city? That is awfully presumptuous, even for you."

"Well… not exactly like you're sayin'," the man admitted. "I knew it was a possibility. Just never thought a guy would on pure dumb luck alone. And take a gander at yourself, Pavlova, you don't even _know _who the guy is in your room lying on your bed, and you're defendin' him like he's your brother! He could be a CIA jackal… or one of them _wolves_."

"…Wait, wait… you think he is _KGB_?" The woman laughed, albeit sardonically. "Call America! Special Forces! We have got a Communist bastard trying to ruin our precious democracy with Red ideals! Hide your wives and daughters; he is a real Russian wolfhound!"

"Pavlova, I can't believe I'm sayin' this, but it's not funny," he warned, though he sounded a little embarrassed. "If ya get caught hidin' him, ya get in big trouble with Ryan. Ya have to turn him in now! Fuck, even the _medics_ were scared to patch up this guy because they didn't want to get the grill! Charlie's scared! What makes ya think you're any different?"

You were at the door now, and could peer inside. From what you could see through the crack, the door led to a private library study. Lamplight cast flickers of the woman's shadow across the wall as she paced. The smell of clove cigarettes hung in the air. The music was coming from within as well; you could see the record player on a table stacked with a few documents. She paused; her previously gentle tone deepened, becoming firm and authoritative.

"Matthews… There is no way in hell I can just hand a person over to Ryan to be slaughtered like… like an _animal_... I have seen enough of that to last a lifetime. If I had any intent of the sort, I would have left him out there to smother to death."

Smother... … you weren't going bonkers! You really had ended up finding Atlantis… And that man was right. You had found it on pure, dumb luck. But what rotten dumb luck; they were going to kill you because of it.

Finally, after a long stretch of silence, the man spoke again. "If ya won't hand him over, I will… I'm not too keen on doin' it, but I'm not lettin' you get on Ryan's bad side on account of him. I'm comin' over right now."

Alarms set off warning signals in your brain. You were in deep. You were going to become a nameless corpse or worse if you didn't think fast. You backed away; frantically looking around the room you were in. Naturally, no windows; since Atlantis was technically a sunken city, there wasn't much of a need for windows. Anyway, you doubted you would get far in just your underwear, as you hadn't seen your diving suit or clothing in the room. The only exits were the door leading to the woman and a door to your right that was padlocked. You had nothing around to use as a weapon, and you knew you were too weak right now to even try to defend yourself hand-to-hand.

So be it. You would die in your underwear at the hands of the stranger, but you wouldn't go down without a fight; Bushido code-style, death before dishonour.

You swallowed hard, staring at the door. Your heart pounded in your ears.

"Matthews, wait," the woman's voice sighed. "Do not come over. I will deal with it and call you later."

There was a pause, but finally the man responded. "Pavlova… I really don't get ya sometimes… ya know that? Alright. Ya break it to him. Good luck." They sounded like they were sending a prisoner to death row… which you were… if you looked at it that way.

Then there was silence. The music stopped. The door creaked open, and a woman strode out. She was average height, with curly hair of the reddest colour you'd ever seen pinned in a loose bun. She also looked a little unsure of how to approach you.

"…Good afternoon," the woman greeted simply. "…I suppose we should get formalities out of the way. My name is Doctor Elena Nikolaevna Pavlova."

You nodded, about to speak – introduce yourself – but she raised a hand, effectively silencing you. She pointed to a couch, and you took it as a command of "sit."

"…I cannot exactly lie to you; put on a smile and tell you that everything will be all right when you have obviously heard us arguing only moments ago." She spoke calmly… but her eyes seemed troubled, and conflict was etched in her brow. "How did you find this place?"

You just… stared at her for a moment, quickly piecing together your words as carefully as possible.

"I'm an archeologist; it's my job to find and explore undersea wreckage and ancient ruins. My team and I have been exploring the areas around Greenland and Iceland lately because of the Viking past both countries share, and we were hoping to excavate rare artifacts for the Museum of Natural History. We went down to assess a few of the ruins our scanners picked up, and to graph out the sea floor so we could find them again in case we had to make multiple trips. I came around to the side of one of the boats and saw lights in a trench… and I wandered off without telling my comrades or asking for extra air or help so I could go look. I know it's stupid, but I had to find out what was making those lights."

You managed a half-smile, knowing that she would probably buy the story. It wasn't exaggerated, and it seemed to ring with truth.

Pavlova listened closely, and adjusted her glasses. "Well… you have me at a loss."

"Well, tell me this, doctor: did I or did I not find Atlantis?"

She smiled wryly. "No, not at all. You found Rapture."

Questionability must have been plain on your face, because she answered right away.

"Rapture is a city. It is... _freedom_. The people here came from the surface to practice free enterprise; to get away from prejudice, big government and crippling societies. It is a sanctuary for artists who fear censorship, and scientists who do not wish to be bogged down by religion or moral ethics."

"You talk about freedom here, ma'am," you spoke up when she was finished, "but the way you and the man you were talking to a while ago were going on, this Ryan person is like a new Hitler or Stalin."

Pavlova's face flushed nearly as red as her hair, and she bit her lower lip. "Things have not been well as of late, unfortunately… But that is not really important right now. The problem is that I cannot put anything at risk while there are tensions boiling both below and above the poverty line. It is selfish, but it would ruin everything I ever worked for since coming here-"

"So… I'm a liability then, am I right? The only solution is to kill me; like you said, this Ryan would more than likely suggest it. Turn me in and _Bang_-" you made a pistol with your right hand and 'fired,' which made Pavlova flinch. "-No more liability. Secret's safe and the big man is happy."

Pavlova muttered what you assumed to be a curse under her breath, turning without warning and kicking the wall with a great big bang that made _you_ flinch. "I cannot just turn you in, I will not! There has to be another way!" She shook her head, and began pacing up and down the length of the room. "If I turn you in, you will never be heard or seen from again… that is the problem though. You are unknown down here… a real Mister Nemo... wait… wait a minute…" She bit her knuckle, thinking so hard she nearly broke the skin.

"Вот и все! You _are_ Mister Nemo!"

"What are you talking about?" You stood, wobbling a little. She had to be at least a couple heads shorter than you.

"You will be turned into Ryan… eventually," she looked up at you with a triumphant smirk. "After you are publicised."

Wait, hold on a tick… "_Publicised_?"

"Think back to what I said before, мальчик," she said, matter of fact, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Not one person has ever found Rapture before on their own. The citizens will absolutely love the story. You will become like the next Charles Lindbergh; a hero."

This little woman wanted to… make you a celebrity?

"Everyone in Rapture will know who you are and what you look like. The story will spread like wildfire, and Andrew Ryan certainly cannot make a man who has fame equal to his own growing infamy just disappear by way of a chemical lab. Yes… it could work… it is brilliant!" Then she turned towards you, studying you with a critical eye.

"Anyway, forgive me. How are you doing? The doctors said you would live, but you shouldn't strain yourself for a while. However, do you think you could manage to wash up and get dressed?"

"Wash…?" You must've sounded really dumb to her, but how could you help it? You were in pain and just confused by… by her in general.

"You do not think the Rapture Tribune would want pictures of a dirty, sweaty man, do you?" She raised a brow. "We should also get your diving suit back from Eckhart. She took it for cleaning and maintenance. We need to present you as a human being and not an enemy of the people."

"Okay…" She could have said that Greta Garbo was really a man at the moment, and you would have agreed without a second thought. That's how much of a moron you sounded right now. "Okay… whatever you want to do, do it if it gets the job done…" Pavlova smiled at you, and hurried off. You could hear a phone being picked up somewhere else in the house.

So long as she kept you, "Mister Nemo" alive, you'd have to trust her.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** It looks like the good doctor is set on keeping him alive. Which is good. If he died off too early, _BioShock 2_ would probably not have been the same game. And I wouldn't be judging Matthews too harshly; he's only trying to keep his friend from getting in big trouble.

Also, Johnny's point of view will be told in first person, like in the game, from here on out. Anyway, constructive criticism is welcomed. I'm cracking down on that argumentative research paper for English, so the next chapter, which features Eleanor, should hopefully be posted soon.


	4. The Man Called Johnny Topside

**A/N: **From here on out, it'd be great if you could point out any mistakes I make in terminology –whether it be real life terms or game terms– or historical bits. I'm doing my best with the knowledge I have from _BioShock_ and _BioShock 2_, as well as the prequel novel, but it's always nice to have someone correcting you so you don't mess up any further.

**Next chapter will be up soon! Don't forget to read and review, please!**

**Disclaimer:** The _BioShock_ franchise belongs to 2K Games. I obviously don't own it. I do, however, own the fanfiction idea and OC's that appear within. Sticky fingers will be eaten with Nutella.

* * *

><p>Chapter IV: The Man Called "Johnny Topside"<p>

Lisbeth J. Vanger was a journalist. There wasn't much of any other way to describe her as a person. She was tall, brunette, and could have passed herself off as Lauren Bacall's twin with her sultry looks. She spoke sharply and always cut to the chase without beating needlessly around the bush, and was practically one with her Acu-Vox and pen.

She was honest (sometimes to the point of brutality), incredibly resourceful, and was one of the only reporters for the Rapture Tribune that always provided articles that rang nothing but golden truth. Vanger also prided herself in knowing that her ability to both interview and write hadn't diminished a wink since she had left the New York Times to erk out a living down here in this underwater haven.

Vanger, this night, was currently on business. However, she wasn't given an assignment from her boss, like usual. She had taken this assignment upon herself… mainly out of pure curiosity.

Doctor Elena Pavlova was one of her most trusted friends; she was an acquaintance from the surface that she had gotten to know personally here in Rapture. Vanger was as fond of Pavlova as if she were her own sister, and the previous afternoon she had been called by her out of the blue with an odd request.

"Come to my apartment at Olympus Heights this evening, and bring along cameraman and whatever else you think you may need," was all the scientist instructed before abruptly hanging up.

Vanger could tell instantly that something was up, so she grabbed the opportunity to grant Pavlova her request. And indeed, she believed to have outdone herself there.

The Tribune's best photographer, Tom Brookman, and her understudy, Anne Doherty, were alongside her for this shrouded errand. Brookman was a sort of quiet person, usually hung about in the background while on the job with Page, but he always managed to obtain the best pictures for the paper. He was a regular shutterbug; able to capture the moment forever with the flash of a bulb. As for Doherty, she was a clever young woman; still fresh and green at the gills, but Vanger saw true potential as a reporter in her. All she needed was a firm voice and a guiding hand.

Early evening had already come and gone by the time the three newspapermen met up at Midas Square and boarded a Bathysphere bound for Olympus Heights. Normally, Vanger would prefer taking the train, but the Atlantic Express was usually busier than Rapture Metro in the later hours. People slowly trickling onto the train cars till they were full to bursting, and slumped over, tired to the bone. That and the train fees had gone up in the past months; a rumor was fleeting around the city that Prentice Mill, the owner of the station chain, was going out of business. Something like that.

As Vanger pulled a cigarette from her platinum case, she noticed that Brookman was staring at her with deep contemplation, blue eyes narrowed and jaw set. "Have something to say, Tom?"

"…So… let me get this straight, Lisbeth," he began, offering her his lighter. She leant over; holding the tip of the cigarette over the flame till it glowed hotly. "…This doctor friend of yours called earlier today, asked for a favour, and you have no clue what it is other than the fact that this favour calls for a camera and your expertise?"

Vanger shrugged nonchalantly, pulling a drag off of her cigarette. "Elena only gave me directions to go to the trolleybus that'll lead to Mars Suites. I thought it was kind of weird that she'd choose Olympus Heights instead of someplace less likely to draw attention; but she's probably taking care to avoid confrontations with those ADAM-hyped goons running around now in the shadier parts of town."

"Are you telling me that those things are real? Heavens! I thought that Tom was just trying to scare me…"

"Unfortunately, he wasn't. You're just going to have to be more careful when you're walking on the streets alone, Anne." Vanger glanced at the younger woman as she tapped her cigarette twice on the side of the ashtray in the center of the submersible. The British girl was fair haired and green-eyed; a string of pearls around her neck and she was fashionably clad in a dove gray dress that swished about her slender calves and made heads turn as she walked past. At first glance, it would be… very difficult to believe that Doherty was a seriously aspiring journalist. She looked like she should be on a Parisian runway rather than interviewing grizzled old maintenance workers or slicked up businessmen. It was a funny thing how appearances could sometimes be so deceiving…

"Anyway, I'm not very sure about this, Lisbeth…" Brookman trailed off, noticing that his companion was rather fixated on the porthole, staring out at the ocean. Her hazel eyes narrowed and brow furrowed. "…Vanger, what are you thinking?"

"Hm? Me? Oh, it's been a while since we went out for drinks, don't you think Tom? We should go for some tonight."

Brookman could only manage a weak glare at her. "Don't try tempting me with distractions, Lisbeth. I don't like this mysterious meeting. You know I don't." Drinks really did sound good though at the moment. And she was right; he'd definitely need a shot or two of whiskey after they were done talking to this Pavlova woman.

"Well, look at it this way, Tom," Vanger flourished her cigarette with mock grandeur. "Whatever it is, it has to be good. Pavlova isn't a lady to leave you completely in the dark either, so that just backs up my pervious point. Don't you agree?"

"Certainly," Brookman replied. "Is there a chance that she'll show us some of her specimens? I heard some of those eggheads Ryan brought down here were involved with some pretty unpleasant stuff on the surface."

Vanger scoffed, frowning at the cameraman. "Elena Nikolaevna? Not on your life, pal. I met her probably a year after the war was over when I was doing coverage over the damage in Europe. Granted, the Soviets had her doing some really nasty things to people in their labs, and she has some… eccentricities about her, but she isn't a bad person. Hell, for a fine example, I know for a fact that she didn't take personal revenge on the Germans for what they did to her home and folks when most people would _jump_ at the chance to put someone on the slab; she said something about pitying them for willingly following a tyrant."

Brookman did not look convinced in the slightest. "Still not too sure here, Vanger."

Lisbeth shook her head, placing her cigarette butt in the ashtray as the Bathysphere surfaced. From beyond the shatter-proof glass and film of receding water, she could see the bright lights of the Metro Station and the Rapture time table. The giant clock above the entrance told her that is was eight o'clock on the nose. As soon as the Bathysphere was secured, the doors slid open with a smooth whir.

"You'll see for yourself soon enough what kind of person she is, Tom. Now, let's get a move on. It's time to find out what our doctor is so eager to show us."

* * *

><p><em>-Mars Suites, Olympus Heights-<em>

"Lisbeth," Pavlova greeted as she walked towards the entrance of the apartment complex. "Добрый вечер, how are you?"

"Sublime, Elena. Just kind of–"

"We're kind of in the dark though still, to be frank, doctor," Brookman cut in, turning his camera case about in his hands whilst giving the scientist a skeptical eye.

Lisbeth only gave him an admonishing scoff. Leave it to Brookman to be unwittingly blunt right off the bat to a perfect stranger. "Tom Brookman, Anne Doherty, meet Doctor Elena Nikolaevna Pavlova; biogenetic specialist for Fontaine Futuristics."

Pavlova's smile was friendly enough, though, she had that… 'chemist's smirk'; that quirk of the lips that a good majority of scientists seemed to share. Her curly red hair was piled into a bun, with flyaway strands that could just not be tamed, and she wore navy blue glasses. She looked at them, but not directly; her eyes never met any of theirs. Lisbeth had always wondered how it was someone as brilliant as Pavlova ended up working for a crook like Fontaine. She could do so much better in this city.

"So, c'mon, Elena," Vanger crossed her arms over her chest. "Tell me what's going on?"

"It is surprise, as matter of fact," the corners of Pavlova's mouth quirked. "Only few people have seen… _it_ so far, besides myself. But they have been sworn to secrecy."

Vanger held a firm belief that the Russian woman had the uncanny ability to hold one's attention for a long period of time, and so far, it was working like a charm. Not even Brookman, who grew bored rather quickly, had turned his head away or batted an eyelash since the word 'surprise' had been uttered. Anne stood on edge, and looked as if she would fall over if someone just touched her with the tip of their finger.

"I can say this much though: this will be perhaps the biggest story the city has ever gotten thus far. You will get lot of praise from Mr. Randall for writing this, Lisbeth."

"Elena, you're worse of a tease than Gregory Peck," Vanger frowned. "As I was saying: spill the beans already, okay? What is it about this 'big story' that you felt the need to drag me, my cameraman, and my understudy here all the way out to Olympus Heights at night?"

"You would not believe even if I told you. Come. Follow me." Elena led them down the corridor and up two flights of stairs to her apartment on the third floor. She let her hand hover above the knob, smiled mechanically at a frustrated Vanger, and input her password into the key pad, opening the door and leading the trio of reporters into the living room.

For a split second, Vanger was seriously considering yelling at Pavlova for yanking her chain this far. There, smack in the center of the room, stood your run of the mill maintenance diver. How was that supposed to make the headlines? You saw them all the time out at Neptune's Bounty fixing leaks. They weren't anything particularly special.

However, she allowed herself a moment of closer inspection and took a few steps closer; all the while thinking of every possible angry comment she could throw at Elena. The diver stood tall, looking straight back at her and partners. Vanger had done a lot of coverage with maintenance divers in Rapture over the last few years… but she didn't recall ever seeing this man's face in any of her past interviews. She might have the tendency to slip up with names every now and then, but she was never one to forget a face.

The man was relatively young, probably in his late twenties, with short dark blonde hair and steely blue eyes that held youthful vigour. His lips were pressed into a firm line, and his jaw was strong and clenched, as if he were expecting her to lash out and strike him.

Yet, while his was a fresh face, it was the design of the diving suit that forced Vanger to realise the true value behind Elena's offering. It definitely wasn't a standard issue suit that the maintenance crew members wore. It carried a little more bulk, and was less advanced; give or take a couple years behind Rapturian technology. It would no doubt be considered primitive in the eyes of a designer.

"Oh…!" Vanger's eyes widened, and she scarcely heard Brookman's comment of 'well, I'll be damned' because of the deluge of questions that flooded her brain in that brief moment. Her eyes flickered from Pavlova's triumphant smirk, and back to the man, finally blinking. She covered her mouth. "Oh my…"

She already had one of her baker's dozen questions figured out. This diver was definitely not from Rapture.

* * *

><p><em>-Two Days Later-<em>

_-Dionysus Park-_

"Almost there, Mister Diary!"

Eleanor ran pell mell down the cobblestone as fast as her legs could carry her. She had just snuck out of the house again, but it hadn't been terribly easy. Since the last time she made an escape, her mother had updated the security systems and changed every key code and password. Eleanor had been able to crack each and every one, but she had almost slipped up several times and narrowly managed to avoid the prying eyes of a camera.

Eleanor figured this much: whenever her mother found out that she had run off, she would undeniably amplify her devices to a higher degree. So, that meant that every time this happened, she would have to precognate how her mother would change the system so she would have a less troublesome time hacking.

The girl slowed her pace to a light skip as she neared the playground, pausing to peek out from behind the hedge to see if any dog-eaters were present. A smile quickly spread across her face as she caught sight of them, her friends.

Friends… yes, she supposed she could call these dog-eaters her friends. They had been nothing but nice to her so far, and she enjoyed their company.

"Amir!" She dashed across the sand, over to where the boy sat by the slides with the girl dog-eater, Molly. He lifted his head and smiled, his brown eyes sparkling.

"Eleanor! You got out of your house again?"

"Yes, and I was hoping you and Molly would want to play for a little while with me and Mister Diary." She happily presented the Acu-Vox she had been carrying, the device nearly as big as herself. "Mother found out that I had one of Papa's diaries, but she didn't get mad and actually let me keep it. He's my friend when I can't come out to play…"

She then noticed the paper clutched in Molly's hands. It was that one she would see in newspaper depositories around the Park sometimes. The Rapture Tribune. She could distinctly remember that her father would read it in the morning while drinking his coffee, and he'd sometimes sit her on his lap so she could read as well.

"Is there anything exciting going on?" She asked, mildly curious. It was also common knowledge to her that newspapers could be full of depressingly dull stories sometimes.

Molly nodded, blonde curls bobbing as she did so. "Uh-huh! A man from above found the city!"

"_Above_?" Eleanor asked, disbelieving and… _awed_ at the thought. "…As in… as in India, Ireland, and Brazil? Like in your book, Amir?"

"Yea!" The boy said excitedly. "I don't know all the words they used, but my dad says that they found him outside in the ocean and brought him in. He's in a diving suit and everything! He looks like a comic book hero; show her, Molly!"

A hero… "Let me see, please?"

Molly handed her the paper with a smile, and she looked at the picture under the headlines. Despite the black-and-white photography, the image really conveyed quite a bit about the man. He was tall, and wearing a diving suit that, indeed, made him look like one of Amir's heroes from those comic books. Eleanor's blue eyes studied the man's face once more, before scanning the first two words in the article…

"Johnny Topside…"


	5. Note from the Author

**ATTENTION: PLEASE READ**

I have just finished reading _BioShock: Rapture_ and it has given me some better ideas to consider. Therefore, this story will be put on hiatus and be put through an extensive revision. I'm not sure when the new version will be out, but as I work on it I will be submitting some oneshots. And hopefully, with any luck, I'll get some readers with the better version.

-Lady-ID


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